165: Chapter 162 Confession

March 1, 1982, afternoon, Tehran, secret interrogation room.

Beheshti sat on a chair.

His hands were handcuffed to the table.

His face was bruised—the result of twelve hours of interrogation.

But he was still alive.

He could still speak.

Karimi sat opposite him.

"You have already confessed," Karimi said, "that you are a spy for Iraq. Your codename is Eagle. You received one million dollars from Iraq."

"Yes," Beheshti said.

"You provided Iraq with Iran's military intelligence."

"Yes."

"You helped Iraq infiltrate Iran's military projects."

"Yes."

Karimi took out a document.

"Now," he said, "I need you to name all your accomplices. Everyone who worked with you. Every Iraqi agent you know. Every spy you are aware of."

Beheshti looked at Karimi.

"If I talk," he asked, "will I live?"

Karimi was silent for a moment.

"I cannot guarantee it," he said, "but if you cooperate, it will be better than if you do not."

Beheshti closed his eyes.

He knew he was finished.

Whether he talked or not, he would die.

But if he talked, at least he could keep his family alive.

If he did not talk, his family would die too.

"Fine," he said, "I will tell you everything."

For the next six hours, Beheshti told him everything he knew.

He revealed the entire Iraqi spy network in Iran.

He identified every Iranian official who had provided intelligence to Iraq.

He named all the intermediaries in Turkey and Europe.

He described how Saddam Hussein's intelligence services operated.

Karimi listened and took notes.

Every name, every detail, every connection.

By evening, Karimi had filled a thick notebook.

There were forty-two names in the notebook.

Forty-two people inside Iran who were either Iraqi spies or were helping Iraq.

Forty-two people.

It was a massive network.

Ahvaz, Reza's office.

Karimi reported to Reza.

"Forty-two people," he said, "spread across Iran's government, military, intelligence agencies, and religious circles."

Reza looked at the list.

His expression grew increasingly grim.

There were some important figures on the list—a deputy minister of the Ministry of Defense (not Rajabi, but another one), an officer of the Revolutionary Guard, three mosque imams, and two members of parliament.

"We must catch them all," Reza said.

"When?" Karimi asked.

"Tonight," Reza said, "a simultaneous operation tonight. I don't want a single one to escape."

"Yes."

Karimi prepared to leave.

"Wait," Reza said, "there is one more thing."

"What?"

"Beheshti," Reza said, "is he still alive?"

"Still alive."

"Keep him alive," Reza said, "do not kill him yet. I may still need him."

"Understood."

Karimi went out.

Reza sat in his office, looking at the list.

He was thinking.

He needed to handle this matter carefully.

If he arrested forty-two people publicly, Iran would fall into a massive political crisis.

If he arrested forty-two people secretly, he might be accused of abuse of power.

He needed to find a balance.

He picked up the phone and called the Supreme Leader.

Tehran, the Supreme Leader's office.

The Supreme Leader was listening to Reza's report.

"Forty-two people?" he asked.

"Yes," Reza said, "forty-two people who are Iraqi spies or are helping Iraq."

The Supreme Leader was silent.

Forty-two people.

This was a huge number.

It meant there was a massive Iraqi spy network inside Iran.

"How shall we handle it?" the Supreme Leader asked.

"Two options," Reza said, "first, a public trial. Second, secret executions."

"What would happen with a public trial?"

"It would cause a political crisis," Reza said, "the people of Iran would lose faith in the government. Our allies would doubt our security. Our enemies would become more emboldened."

"And secret executions?"

"There would be none of those problems," Reza said, "but there is one issue—some people would go missing. Their families would ask questions."

The Supreme Leader thought for a moment.

"I have an idea," he said, "we execute some of them publicly. We tell the public that these people are Iraqi spies. But we do not tell the public about the full network. We let the public know that we have dealt with the issue."

"Which ones should be executed publicly?"

"Beheshti," the Supreme Leader said, "Javadi. And some other important figures. The rest, secret executions."

Reza nodded.

"Understood," he said, "I will make arrangements."

"Also," the Supreme Leader said, "I want to see the complete list. I want to approve every execution."

"I will send it to you."

The phone hung up.

Reza sat in his office, thinking.

The Supreme Leader was becoming more cautious.

He no longer trusted Reza completely.

He wanted to control every decision directly.

This was a warning.

Reza needed to be careful.

If he wanted to maintain his power, he had to make the Supreme Leader feel that he was still useful.

But he could not let the Supreme Leader feel that he was too powerful.

This was a delicate balance.

Tehran, secret interrogation room.

Javadi sat on a chair.

His face was pale.

He knew he was finished.

Karimi walked into the interrogation room.

"General Javadi," he said, "you are to be executed."

Javadi closed his eyes.

He knew this day would come.

He just didn't expect it so soon.

"Can I see my family?" he asked.

"No," Karimi said, "your charge is treason. You cannot see anyone."

"Then can I write a letter?"

"Yes," Karimi said, "but all content will be censored."

Javadi nodded.

He picked up a pen.

But he didn't know what to write.

Apologize to his wife?

Explain to his son?

Admit his mistakes?

Finally, he wrote a few simple words:

"I am sorry."

Just those three words.

He handed the letter to Karimi.

Karimi glanced at it, then put the letter into a folder.

"Tomorrow morning," Karimi said, "you will be executed."

Javadi nodded.

"I know," he said.

Karimi prepared to leave.

"Karimi," Javadi called out to him.

"What?"

"Reza is right," Javadi said, "he knew from the beginning that I would fail. He set me up."

"Yes," Karimi said.

"Tell him," Javadi said, "tell him I admit my mistake. I should not have betrayed Iran. I should not have been greedy. I deserve to die."

Karimi looked at Javadi.

Then he nodded.

"I will tell him," he said.

Karimi walked out of the interrogation room.

Ahvaz, Reza's office.

Karimi was reporting to Reza.

"Javadi admitted his mistake," Karimi said, "he wanted me to tell you that he deserves to die."

Reza was silent.

He did not like killing.

He never liked it.

But he knew it was necessary.

Javadi was a traitor. A traitor must die.

Otherwise, all of Iran's officers would feel that treason had no price.

"Execute him tomorrow morning," Reza said, "along with Beheshti. And the other important figures."

"Yes."

Karimi prepared to leave.

"Karimi," Reza said.

"What?"

"You did well," Reza said, "in this operation."

Karimi looked at Reza.

"It is my job," he said.

"Not just a job," Reza said, "you are the person I trust the most."

Karimi was silent.

"Excellency Reza," he said, "I will always be loyal to you."

"I know," Reza said.

Karimi went out.

Reza sat in his office, looking out the window.

The sun had set.

A new night had begun.

Tomorrow morning, dozens of people would be executed.

Tomorrow morning, the Iraqi spy network inside Iran would be completely destroyed.

Tomorrow morning, Iran would enter a new phase.

A more united phase.

A more powerful phase.

A phase closer to victory.

Reza wrote a line in his notebook:

"From today, Iran's internal enemies have been cleared. From today, Iran can focus on dealing with external enemies. From today, victory is no longer far away."

He closed the notebook.

The phone rang.

It was Fatima.

"I have a new idea," she said, "about the system for dealing with Cruise missiles."

"Speak," Reza said.

Fatima began to explain her new idea.

Reza listened attentively.

The war was still continuing.

But Iran had already taken a big step toward victory.